


Healing Hands

by EarendilEldar



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-08-23 05:34:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20237572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EarendilEldar/pseuds/EarendilEldar
Summary: Celebrimbor has had an idea about using his skills to help his uncle... but can it really work?





	1. Chapter 1

It had been several days since Celebrimbor had gone out to the forge-house. He’d been spending an unusual amount of time in the study of his husband’s library, making notes and sketches, going through books, and exchanging messages with Elrond. Erestor was tempted to grow suspicious, except that Celebrimbor seemed much more absorbed than secretive, and Erestor didn’t feel particularly concerned by the rather dry healing books on physical properties of thought and will that his husband had been consulting. 

He couldn’t begin to imagine Celebrimbor turning healer, but then, Erestor hadn’t been generally known for his horticultural skills until he’d arrived in Valinor. The West was a place where one had the time, peace, and resources to explore many skills and pursuits that weren’t always practicable in the realms of Middle Earth. Erestor had considered bringing it up at some point, but he knew Celebrimbor would tell him what this new venture was about eventually. In the interim, it became a fascinating diversion trying to guess what it was.

One evening Erestor decided to invite Elrond and Celebrían to dinner at Dûnereg, thinking he might help Celebrimbor facilitate their collaboration and possibly discover some hints about Celebrimbor’s work. What occurred was more like Celebrimbor ushering Elrond into the study with a glass of wine as soon as they arrived, emerging for dinner, and going directly back to the study afterward with their cordials. Erestor just shook his head and offered Celebrían a walk in the garden since their husbands were of no social use when seized with some idea.

Erestor was beginning to think he should have invited the twins as well. They would have got to the bottom of the mystery within moments. But that night as they were undressing for bed, Celebrimbor mentioned that he would need to ‘borrow’ his uncle for a few moments when Maedhros came to work with Erestor in the garden the next day. 

“Would this be the same sort of _borrowing_ you did with Elrond this evening?” Erestor asked with a raised brow.

“Hardly,” Celebrimbor chuckled, hanging up his dinner robes. “I am certain my uncle knows nothing of healing arts. But I will need him for measurements. And his agreement, of course.”

“All right. What are you up to?” Erestor finally asked. “You’ve been squirrelled away for days working at some secret. That’s rather unlike you.”

Celebrimbor looked very slightly sheepish as he stepped across the room and took Erestor’s left hand in his, brushing his thumb over the ring of mithril and cabochon rubies on Erestor’s finger. “Are you certain about that, being unlike me?”

“Away from your forge, yes, it is,” Erestor said pointedly but not ungently.

“Ah, well, you have me there,” Celebrimbor smiled. “It’s not a secret, really. It’s just that… well, something I’ve been thinking about, but I haven’t been certain it’s possible. Until Elrond and I spoke this evening. Now I do think it may be, and it is just left to make a start.”

“A start at what?” Erestor said, now burning with curiosity about the light of eagerness in Celebrimbor’s eyes.

The light in Celebrimbor’s eyes dimmed somewhat with hesitation. Celebrimbor took a long breath. “I think I can replace my uncle’s hand,” he said quietly.

Erestor was quiet for a long moment, giving his husband a questioning look. “Through what craft?” he said eventually. 

“Several crafts, really. Primarily metal, but also leather,” Celebrimbor said, his enthusiasm beginning to rise again. 

Erestor raised a hand quickly for him to stop. “I won’t understand, Celeb, I’m no craftsman. But… do you truly think you can do this? Recreate a living member from metal and leather? And is it especially wise? If the Powers would not or could not remake it… and, truly, I’ve seen him work – he is at less disadvantage with one hand than many are with both.”

“I know he’s not,” Celebrimbor said, “but… it might help. In some small ways, at times. I don’t really mean that it would ‘recreate’ his hand, as such, but give him a tool to assist him. I want to do something.”

Erestor smiled fondly and kissed Celebrimbor’s cheek. “Now that _is_ like you,” he said. “Come, let us rest, my love. See what he thinks of it on the morrow.”

“Could I persuade you to rethink the ‘rest’ part of that suggestion?” Celebrimbor murmured, slipping his arm around his husband’s bare waist.

“I’m very rarely the persuadable type,” Erestor said primly. “In fact, I’m practically only persuadable by quite undressed smiths….”

Celebrimbor leaned in to kiss Erestor as he deftly unlaced the placket of his leggings.


	2. Chapter 2

“Good morrow, Garden Master,” called the tall, red-haired Elf as he approached the garden gate at Dunereg.

“A very good morning,” Erestor responded, already getting everything set up for their day’s work. 

“Ah, and to my nephew as well,” Maedhros said as Celebrimbor stepped out to the porch. “On your way to the forge?”

“Not at the moment, uncle. Actually, I wondered if I might have a few moments of your time,” Celebrimbor asked.

“As long as your good husband doesn’t mind sparing me,” Maedhros said, glancing to Erestor.

“Of course I don’t,” Erestor smiled. “You’ll know where to find me when you two are done.”

Maedhros couldn’t help his smirk as ever-industrious Erestor was already getting to work with his weeding fork. “Lead the way, nephew,” he said and followed Celebrimbor into the house.

Celebrimbor brought Maedhros into the study in the library and asked him to be seated.

“This is getting rather… intriguing,” Maedhros said. “I do hope there’s nothing amiss, though.”

“Of course not,” Celebrimbor said, gathering up a few papers. “Only, I’ve been doing rather a lot of thinking lately….”

“Well, surely that cannot be news-worthy,” Maedhros laughed.

“There are times,” Celebrimbor chuckled. “I hope I may be able to explain this adequately; it is an unusual notion, at best.”

“All the more intriguing,” Maedhros said with raised brows. “You have my attention.”

Celebrimbor sat down across from his uncle with a sheaf of papers in his hand. He was quiet for a long moment before looking up at his uncle. “I’ve been wondering for some time what I might be able to do. Some artifice I might devise. Put my skill to some use, beyond circlets and gems, at any rate. You see, I noticed one evening that you occasionally grasp the end of your arm, as if to alleviate some soreness.”

“Ah. I see,” Maedhros said, ducking his head and glancing away. “I suppose I do sometimes, though it has been so long that I’m often not even aware of doing it. This may sound strange – well, it is strange, truly, but… there are times when _this_,” he said, waving his hand in front of his abbreviated arm where his right hand once was, “I swear I can feel it yet, a tingling feeling. But an ancient memory, nothing more.”

Celebrimbor nodded. “That is much what I suspected. What if it is more than memory, though?”

Maedhros gave his nephew a strange look. 

“Let me demonstrate,” Celebrimbor said. “Will you place your hand upon the table?”

Maedhros nodded and did so. 

“Now, will you raise a finger? It matters not which.”

Again, Maedhros nodded and raised his index finger, looking at his nephew for some indication of what this proved.

“What made you do that?” Celebrimbor asked.

“Your request,” Maedhros said, not understanding.

Celebrimbor shrugged. “If you did not care to, you very easily might have refused and simply not done it.”

“This is hardly a great matter,” Maedhros chuckled. “It would be rather petty to refuse something so simple.”

“Aye, but… what was the process of placing your hand upon the table and then raising that finger?”

Again, Maedhros simply looked at his nephew, having no idea how to answer that question.

“It began with a thought, yes? You thought of reaching forward, touching the tabletop, and so… it happened. And then, you decided which finger to raise in demonstration of your ability to do so, and again… it happened.”

“I suppose that’s an accurate appraisal. If perhaps somewhat overthought for such a simple process,” Maedhros said dubiously. 

“It may be overthought, but… well, Erestor has more than once charged me with understanding the world only in terms of fire or metal, and so I fear I have a tendency to break things down to their most mechanical level at times. In this case, I’m speaking of the process of will. It was your _will_ to set your hand upon the table and your _will_ to lift a finger. Oh, you may lower that now, incidentally….”

“Thank you,” Maedhros said with a smirk. “I do see your point, but… what has will got to do with…?” Maedhros said, raising his right arm. “Will cannot regrow this, if that’s what you are thinking.”

“It isn’t,” Celebrimbor assured. “But I think that there is something which will can do to help. The sensation you retain in that arm… I think it may be possible to harness that through will. I discussed this at some length with Elrond last evening – I wouldn’t have brought the idea to you if it was quite impossible – and he believes my reasoning is sound. Will you look at these drawings? I think I may be able to achieve this. With your agreement, of course.”

For a few moments, Maedhros leafed through the sketches and notes Celebrimbor handed him before glancing up. “Smithcraft never was my strong suit, I’m afraid. But if you believe you are technically capable of this and Elrond believes it is a practical possibility… I see no reason you should not undertake this endeavor. And I will be happy to help you if I may.”

“The point is helping _you_, uncle,” Celebrimbor said. “It may take time, but I hope to do just that. If I can take some measurements, I will begin work almost immediately.”

“Have I told you how proud of you I am?” Maedhros said, reaching out to clasp Celebrimbor’s arm. “I don’t know how you’ve done it, but you’ve managed to excel all of my father’s line, twice over. You are the best of us, never doubt that.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops... gratuitous Celebrimbor/Erestor smut. How did that get in there? :-D
> 
> (I blame pervy Ulmo, that's what!)

It was several months of meticulous work before Celebrimbor thought he might have a working model that could be used to test his idea. There was only so much he could test his theories and creation himself and so once he had the essential piece created, he packed it carefully in a cask and brought it home with him. 

It had rained much of the afternoon, so Erestor was found in his library rather than the garden. Celebrimbor knew better than to enter that sanctum sanctorum straight from his forge-house, so instead he left the box containing his most unusual creation in the corridor and called out to Erestor that he was going to bathe in the bathhouse. 

Erestor, at work transcribing notes he’d collected on annals of the Third Age, set down his pen and rose from his desk. It was a rare day that his husband did not ‘bathe’ in the stream on his way home and Erestor decided to follow and enquire as to the cause of this aberration of habit.

As expected, he found Celebrimbor’s working garments cast off and left where dropped in the antechamber where one could dress after bathing, but in his own aberration of habit, Erestor forewent tidying up and instead began removing his own robes. It was as good a time as any to bathe before preparing for supper, he supposed, and since he had the luxury of a husband to share the bath with he thought it well to take advantage where such was presented.

Taking a couple of linens and a small basket of phials, Erestor made his way into the bathhouse where Celebrimbor was leisurely swimming in the cold pool. When Celebrimbor turned and spotted Erestor setting linens on a bench and placing a basket beside the hot pool, he wasted no time climbing out of the pool and getting his arms around his husband.

“What stroke of fortune have I to thank for bringing my handsome, noble smith home for a proper bath?” Erestor murmured as Celebrimbor dropped kisses upon his shoulder.

“I should say it was the temptation presented by the sight of you coming to share my bath with me,” Celebrimbor said, his lips still brushing Erestor’s skin. 

“That temptation would be available to you any time you bathed at home. Or have you just come to realise that?” Erestor teased.

“My dear, when you work in the heat of a forge -” Celebrimbor began.

“Aye, I know this protestation by now,” Erestor said, holding up a hand. 

Celebrimbor swiftly caught Erestor’s fingers and placed a kiss on them. 

“If I could have one of those upon my lips it would be very nice,” Erestor suggested, turning in Celebrimbor’s strong arms as a shiver of bliss shot through him as it always did when they were so close. “But, a warning – start nothing that cannot be resolved quickly. We expect dinner guests this evening.”

“Anything I should start with you could proceed very quickly, indeed,” Celebrimbor grinned, granting the kiss Erestor sought. “Although, quickness may not yield perfect satisfaction, and may thus require several repeat performances….”

“Then I think we should combine our objectives, so to have both completed in a timely manner,” Erestor said, pulling away from Celebrimbor’s still cool embrace and slipping into the hot pool. 

Celebrimbor took more time to adjust to the heat and so at first just sat upon the edge. “Let me wash your hair?” he offered, picking up a cake of soap that smelled of fresh mint. 

Erestor grinned, gliding gracefully through the steamy water to where Celebrimbor sat. Wrapping his arms around Celebrimbor’s waist, he said, “And what might I do for you?”

“Actually, I wasn’t offering an exchange of services. I just want you to relax and enjoy someone taking care of you. Namely, me.”

Erestor smiled softly and stepped up on the underwater ledge to kiss Celebrimbor. “Every day I thank the star that shone on the hour of our meeting, my beloved.”

“As do I, Eres, and ever shall. Now, come, sit back and rest your head in my lap,” Celebrimbor said, soaping his hands to work through Erestor’s dark, silky locks.

Erestor sank down into the pool and leaned his head against Celebrimbor’s thigh. He let out a soft moan of pleasure as Celebrimbor’s skillful fingertips massaged his forehead, temples, neck, and shoulders. 

“I really should bathe at home more often,” Celebrimbor murmured. “The answer to your question about that, incidentally, is that I’ve finished my first attempt at a… well, I’ve been trying to think what to call it, really. A mechanical hand?”

Erestor glanced up. “Have you? It just so happens to be your uncle and his husband joining us for supper. This morning, I found a book Fingon had asked me about a while ago and thought to ask them round instead of just sending it up.”

“Fortuitous,” Celebrimbor said. 

“You do think it will work, then?” Erestor asked.

Celebrimbor shrugged. “Reasonably. Though, some adjustments may be necessary, and I don’t know how long it might take for my uncle to become adept with it, if indeed he can. Which I would not doubt, but that the mechanics may be a hindrance, more than a help. I cannot know.”

Erestor caught Celebrimbor’s hands and tugged gently, encouraging him to join him in the pool. Erestor wrapped his arms around Celebrimbor and kissed him. “I think you should not doubt your skill,” he said softly.

“This isn’t a sword or a circlet or even some ithildin upon a secret gate. It’s like nothing I’ve ever crafted before,” Celebrimbor said. “It’s just…. If my left hand had not been returned to me upon my rehousing, I could never work a forge for myself again. Even the simplest of creations would require the aid of another. I don’t know how I would fare with that. Though, I do know that I would adapt to anything as long as I had you with me.”

“So it is for your uncle and Fingon. But I understand why you’re doing this. As I always say, you are my _noble_ smith,” Erestor said, stroking his fingers through Celebrimbor’s own wet hair.

“And you my learned scribe and beautiful counsellor,” Celebrimbor smiled.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Back to the actual story again....)

That evening when Maedhros and Fingon arrived for supper, Celebrimbor met them on the porch with glasses of wine at the ready. The evening had turned fair after the rain had passed and Erestor decided that the dining hall could have the night off while they entertained their guests on the porch. He’d placed a table there that was intimate enough for four but still substantial enough to bear several courses. As usual, Celebrimbor was stationed as footman while Erestor finished the cooking.

“I have to admit,” Celebrimbor said with a smile, “that I’m not entirely certainly I’m serving the correct wine. I think I saw some of every sort of thing on Eres’s kitchen table this evening. Whether I should have considered the chickens or the fruit or the spices most highly when I went to the wine cellar, I’ve no way of knowing!” 

“In my long experience, once one has had enough wine it doesn’t matter,” Fingon said, taking a seat at the table and making himself comfortable. 

“In that I am most assuredly agreed,” Celebrimbor laughed. “Only, I must recommend a relative degree of sobriety this evening.”

“That is a rather strange notion,” Maedhros teased. 

“Admittedly,” Celebrimbor said. “But, you see… I’ve just completed that model I’ve been working at, and I wondered if you might be willing to give it a try.”

“Have you really?” Maedhros said softly. Part of him hardly believed that anyone could devise such a thing and here his nephew suggested that he had a functioning model prepared. 

“Aye. Of course, there’s only so much that I can test it myself, and, truly, I cannot know whether it will work as I propose – or, even if it does, whether it will be comfortable enough to be of use….”

“Well, we shall sit down and examine it directly after supper,” Maedhros said. While the whole notion might have been rather unbelievable, he did have every confidence in Celebrimbor’s skill and did not care for the hesitancy in his voice. Humility was one thing – and one thing that Celebrimbor’s father had never exhibited – but self-doubt was quite another. “If I have difficulties or suggestions, I shall tell you of them and then you may proceed to the next phase of this venture.”

“Whatever are you on about?” Fingon asked. “This sounds like some secretive curiosity!”

“Perhaps it is,” Maedhros said, grinning at his husband.

Fingon just shook his head and turned his attention back to his wine. He knew far better than to let Maedhros think he was winding him up. 

Only moments later, Erestor emerged with a platter roasted chickens stuffed with fruits and surrounded by grilled vegetables. It was little wonder why meals at Dûnereg were legendary affairs.

After supper, Erestor suggested that Fingon come through to the library while they enjoyed their cordials to have a look at the book Erestor had set aside for him. “It’s one I haven’t yet been through personally, so I cannot swear to the accuracy of these accounts – in comparison to others of their day, that is,” Erestor cautioned as they went in. “If you should find anything that looks amiss, you might mark it and let me know once you’ve finished with the book. I should make any necessary annotations as soon as possible with a thing like that.”

“Of course, I’d be happy to do so. Though, the accounts are mostly from after my time, is that not correct?” Fingon asked.

“Just so. But there is always a need for expository information and that is likely to cover a lot of ‘your time’. As I’ve found, scribes who are unfamiliar with a detail of history have a habit of writing rumour into the record. Which is then copied by the next and the next and so on until the whole of history comes into question. Which is why I annotate everything personally.”

“I think my husband has just indoctrinated yours as an apprentice scribe,” Celebrimbor laughed.

“I should think it fair,” Maedhros said, “I am already an apprentice gardener. Shall we have a look at your creation?”

Celebrimbor nodded and together they followed their husbands into the house and over to the study tucked away in the library. Celebrimbor and Maedhros sat down at the desk and Celebrimbor opened the cask in which he’d brought the artificial hand. 

“May I?” Maedhros said, reaching out to touch it.

“Of course,” Celebrimbor nodded, watching his uncle carefully lift the item out of the box, turning it over in his left hand, comparing it in size and weight. “If we get to the point of creating a final piece, I would intend to refine this exterior leather and work it so that it would be all but indistinguishable from your own hand,” he said.

“I’ve no doubt you would have the skill of my mother in such sculpting,” Maedhros said quietly. After a long moment, he seemed to shake himself out of some old memory. “How should I attempt a test of this?” he asked.

“Well, if you will hold out your right arm, the item would fit just here, almost like a bracer. You see how the straps will keep it fast?” Celebrimbor explained as he fitted the piece onto his uncle’s arm. “As for the rest… well, that is down to your force of will. And, of course, whether or not the concept actually works. Though I did seem to be able to transmit will through the metal, but this could all be very different in different situations, of course….”

For a few minutes, Maedhros sat with the mechanical item strapped onto his abbreviated arm, getting the feel of the device. He had at times in the past worn garments or armour designed to mask that part of his arm, though he’d never sought something that would replicate his missing hand out of vanity. 

Celebrimbor said nothing, letting his uncle take as much time as he wanted with the piece. 

By that time, Fingon had become curious about what Maedhros and his nephew were so intent upon across the room. Erestor, too, was interested to see what his husband had come up with, and whether it would work as he’d predicted. 

As Fingon approached, he peered over Maedhros’s shoulder and couldn’t suppress a gasp of surprise to see his husband bearing a hand where there had been none in ages. At Fingon’s gasp, Maedhros turned toward him, but stopped halfway and slowly turned his gaze back to the hand Celebrimbor had wrought. 

The index finger was extended and risen about an inch from the surface of the desk. All four Elves stared at it in amazement. 

“It works,” Maedhros murmured. “You’ve done it, just as you thought….”

“It could be quite accidental,” Celebrimbor said guardedly. “It will take more testing, and practice with the control of it.”

“But it does work, in more than just theory,” Erestor insisted. “We’ve all just seen it, Celeb. You’ve created a thing of wonder.”

“Indeed,” Maedhros concurred, still sounding somewhat dazed. Then he added more surely, “I should practice with it, and I shall. Perhaps whenever I come to work in the garden, I shall take some time each day with this as well. Learn to master it. If I can train my left hand to act as better even than two, I shall learn this as well.”

Fingon had yet to say anything, but had gone from astonishment to looking pensive as Celebrimbor and Maedhros make initial notes and observations. As he and Maedhros prepared to depart back to Tirion, all Fingon said of the matter was that he had “never imagined such a thing possible” and that Celebrimbor’s skill was surely unparalleled by any of the Eldar.

* * *

That night as Maedhros and Fingon took to bed to take their night's ease, Maedhros turned to his husband and held him close as ever he did when they laid down together.

“You are more quiet than usual, my beautiful Findekáno,” Maedhros pointed out gently. 

“I have much to think on, Timo,” Fingon said, relaxing into Maedhros’s embrace.

“Much to think of my nephew’s work, I should guess,” Maedhros murmured.

“Aye,” Fingon admitted. “It is indeed a thing of wonder that he should be able to create such a device.”

Maedhros hummed thoughtfully. “But you have more thoughts than that, my beloved. What is it that troubles you?”

Fingon was quiet for a long moment. “Timo… it is not easy for me to articulate what I feel in this. In many ways, it is not for me to speak of or feel anything about it. It is your hand, after all, and I -”

“And you are my _husband_, Findekáno. Everything you feel matters most exceptionally to me, and I would have you speak your heart and mind, always. You are not to be denied a say in anything that concerns me, not ever,” Maedhros said definitively. “We are one, Káno.”

Fingon sighed deeply. “It _is_ a wonder, Timo. I assuredly mean that, just as I said it. And if it is an aid and a benefit to you, you should make use of it in every situation. I would never seek to deny you any such thing.”

“I never thought otherwise, beloved,” Maedhros said. “But…?”

“There’s only one thing I would ask, Timo.”

Maedhros nodded. 

“Please don’t wear it here, in our bed. I want nothing artificial here, Maitimo. I want only the beautiful Elf I married. That’s my only request. I love you as you are, Timo….”

Maedhros wrapped his arms tighter around Fingon and kissed him soundly. “You have my word, my darling. Only us here, just as we are. And that is no hardship you ask of me, and never shall be, for it is _you_ and your love that made me whole and healed and happy again. More than I have ever been, my Findekáno, and ever more and more shall I grow every day you are beside me.”


End file.
